


BP Station

by white_x_lie



Series: Short Stories [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Character Death, Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Tried, Love, Mental Breakdown, One Shot, Original Character Death(s), Original Fiction, Romance, Sad Ending, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, cheasy, paper cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_x_lie/pseuds/white_x_lie
Summary: Haley didn't think she'd meet him in a nasty BP station so late. Or that he'd spill coffee on her. Honestly, she didn't know what charmed her the most: the sleazy apology or the soggy jumper. But hey, there she was.xx-xxIt all started with a coffee and a much-needed break from driving. The coffee had been disgusting. It was the type of coffee you could only find at crappy BP stations you stumble across whilst you're riding at night and desperately in need to pee because it's been four hours since the last stop.xx-xxIn which I write a short story about a paper cup.





	BP Station

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> This short story actually came from a prompt that a club in my parent's work sent out. They said that you had to write a short story including a paper cup. It could literally be anything. So I took on that challenge and this is the result of it. Tell me what you think!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> \- Tyler

They met over a paper cup.

It was silly, really, but she still carried it in her purse all the time. She had rinsed it as soon as she had gotten home. The writing on it had almost faded because of that, but it was still legible, the ink from the neat numbers and letters still tainting the shiny white material.

It all started with a coffee and a much-needed break from driving. The drink had been disgusting. It was the type of coffee you could only find at crappy BP stations you stumble across whilst you're riding at night and desperately in need to pee because it's been four hours since the last stop.

She had stood in line, a pack of chocolate cookies shamefully held in her hands as the old woman in front of her slowly placed her purchases in a plastic bag. She switched to leaning on her other hip, trying to quelch her impatience. Sighing would be rude, and honestly, wouldn't make the woman move any faster. Finally, the old lady said goodbye to the employee, liberating the line, and she stepped forward.

"An expresso, please," she muttered to the man standing behind the counter, who nodded before going to work, pressing several buttons on the machine. It beeped and started pouring something that looked more like water than any good beverage and she finally let out the sigh she was holding in.

She didn't care about being rude anymore. Why had she landed on the cheapest BP station? At that moment, she could've sworn she heard a faint cackle at her lack of luck somewhere in the world.

The coffee machine beeped again and she forced a smile as the man scanned her cookies. She tried not to see the way he stared at her judgingly before looking back at the packet. She knew she didn't have the body of a model, but that was just rude. She needed the sugar the cookies would provide her if she wanted to make the last two-hour ride back home.

Once she'd paid, murmuring a short thank you, she started towards the door at a fast pace. It was already eleven and she wanted to get into bed and sleep as soon as possible.  
She was about to push the door to the exit open, when someone roughly bumped into her, spilling the water-coffee all over her. She gasped and heard someone swear as she raced to tug off her soaked jumper.

Luckily, because the coffee was bad, it wasn't scorching hot, mostly verging on lukewarm. But that was the only thing she had to thank. Now her jumper was soggy and disgusting, the liquid having even gone through it, and an ugly brown spot stained her white t-shirt.

She fiercely glared at the man who'd bumped into her, partly hoping she looked intimidating to a minimum.

"You could at least say sorry." Her voice came out cold.

"Sorry," the man looked lost. "Are you burnt?"

Her face turned to one of disgust.

"Coffee wasn't even warm. Not sure if I'm thankful or disappointed."

His face turned to one of pity. He kept looking back and forth between the bathroom and the new stain on her shirt.

"I'll go get napkins and buy you a new coffee. Just," he hesitated slightly, his green eyes shifting nervously. "Stay here, okay?"

She looked at him run for the men's bathroom, sighing once, twice, before deciding to stop feeling sorry for herself. She tried to look on the positive side. At least she still had her cookies. They had miraculously not been touched by the coffee. She walked towards the bin, throwing the empty cup away. What a waste of money.

She saw the man jog towards her and hand her the toilet paper.

"You know you could've just asked the man at the counter to hand you some napkins, right?" She stated with an unimpressed look.

He turned red, looking at the stack of napkins on the counter. She followed his gaze, seeing the state of the napkins, and was suddenly glad he had run to the toilets to get her something else to clean up with.

"Nevermind, didn't say anything."

He stood awkwardly whilst she looked in the glass reflection to clean herself up. She hoped no one would walk by outside and see her.

"So, umh, what's your name?"

"Haley," she answered. "Yours?"

"Cameron," he sent her a smile. "Nice to meet you, though I wish we could've met under better circumstances."

They chuckled half-heartedly.

"Let me buy you a new coffee, okay?" He suddenly shook his head as he gave a disgusted look in the direction of the hot drinks machine. "Actually, this coffee is crap, should we go to the next BP station?"

Her expression matched his in an instant.

"Probably, thanks," she said, deciding to let him pay for her new coffee. She didn't have any cash on her to buy one anyway, so she let it slide that he was going to pay for her coffee, even if she felt like it was charity.

They exited the station, both heading separate ways to their cars. Well, she had a car, his was more a van. He went first, and she followed him along the highway, putting the blinkers on and heading off into the parking lot as soon as the next BP station appeared. She got out of her car and joined him halfway to the entrance, crossing the threshold of the shop after him.

"Go ahead and sit down," he pointed towards an empty high table. "I'll get the coffee."

She hesitated. She really needed to start heading back home if she wanted to get any sleep. She had thought that he was just going to buy her a coffee, not sit down and talk to her.

"You coming?" His smile was friendly but he looked nervous. "Won't even entertain a guy who pays for your coffee?"

Her mind was made up. She accepted the fact that she was probably going to fall asleep at work tomorrow. She told herself that she was just doing this for the coffee.

"You spilt my original coffee in the first place, so don't get too cocky."

She walked towards the table he'd pointed to, tucking her feet under the stretcher as she watched him get into the line. Looking at her watch, she promised herself she wouldn't stay too long.

 _Just a minute_ , she told herself. _Just enough time to seem polite and then I can get out of here with my well-deserved coffee._

He came back a few minutes later, holding something that actually looked decent and drinkable. He'd gotten one for himself too, and was holding two cookies that apparently came with the drink.

He sat down in front of her, handing her everything. She had to refuse his cookie three times before he accepted that a coffee was enough of an apology.

They made small talk, and she found out he lived an hour away from where she did and that he'd gone to France to visit his sick mother. She learnt his favourite colour was orange because his father hated it with a passion, and that he was a professional journalist, writing articles about the local news in his city.

She was too busy talking to drink her coffee, leaning forwards with interest whenever his mouth would open. A while later, she glanced at her watch, more of a reflex than a conscious move, and had to look at it twice when she couldn't believe her eyes.

Dammit, it was already twelve. Her boss was going to kill her tomorrow when she'd be found snoring under the desk.

"Hey, sorry to stop you, but I really need to get going if I want to make it home," she explained apologetically. "Anyways, it was nice meeting you."

He looked slightly disappointed, even as he waved her off.

"It's okay, I should go too."

They both stood up, Haley grabbing her still-full coffee cup, and headed towards the exit, splitting up to go separate ways and saying their goodbyes once again.

She waved at him when he drove by with his van, and watched as he disappeared down the highway.

She sighed, reaching into her suitcase. She knew she'd worn the woolly t-shirt the day before, but it was better than staying soggy. Also, it was cold and she wanted something thick that could keep her warm as she didn't have another jumper and wasn't going to wear the stained one.

She climbed in the back, changing quickly, and sat back down in the driver's seat, attaching her seatbelt. She set up her GPS once again, sipping her almost-cold coffee slowly. It tasted fine, good even, and she was glad that they'd gone to the next BP station.

She set off for home and probably ate too many cookies to stay awake.

  
  
xx-xx

  
  
She almost slammed her head on the table. She was so tired. No, she was exhausted. Her eyes were barely staying open as she stared at her screen. She hadn't even put make-up on this morning, deciding that sleeping in was worth the lack of morning routine.

"Go home."

Her head shot up, and she tried to see who it was through the fog covering her eyes. She finally noticed the vague figure of her boss, but judging by the hands on her hips, she was disappointed.

"But you'll stay longer tomorrow, yeah? And catch up on all your work, for God's sake."

Haley gave her a thumbs up, calling a friend to pick her up. She was afraid of falling asleep in public transport and couldn't drive as her eyesight was limited to the five meters in front of her.

When she got home, she noticed the mess that was her house.

Oh yeah, she hadn't had the time to unpack.

As much as she didn't want to clean up and sleep instead, she knew she would regret it deeply tomorrow. So there she was, sorting through her clothes, throwing most of them in the washing machine. She then went on to her bathroom products, dumping them all in a basket and telling herself that was enough, before going to the kitchen to eat something small so that she wouldn't be hungry after her crucial nap. At least, she was going to until she saw the empty cookie box and coffee cup.

She was about to throw them when she saw some black marker on the cup. It took all her concentration but she managed to decipher what was written.

_Call me-_

She didn't even read the number before she was grinning like an idiot. And she who thought they'd never meet again. He'd left his number in a neat print on the bottom of the cup. She rocked onto her toes, almost falling when her body didn't support her. Yeah, she'd forgotten she was exhausted.

That didn't really destroy her mood. She almost typed the number in on her phone but didn't when she couldn't focus on the numbers. Maybe it would be better to call him tomorrow, at a reasonable time, when she wasn't delirious on lack of sleep. Girls were always talking about waiting some time before replying to a text message anyways. She assumed it would be applied the same in this situation.

She left the cup on the table and immediately crashed into her bed, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  
  
xx-xx  


_Damn, I'm hungry,_ was the first thing Haley thought when she woke up.

 _CAMERON'S TELEPHONE NUMBER IS ON THE CUP,_ was the second thing her brain provided.

Immediately, she was excited despite her alarm still blaring next to her left ear. She felt so much better after a full night of sleep. She could actually see the clothes on the floor she'd dumped when she'd changed in her pyjamas yesterday even though she didn't really want to see them.

She pulled her hair into a messy bun, stumbling down sleepily to the kitchen, heading straight to the cereal cupboard. Getting food in her body was a priority. She'd sort of forgotten to eat yesterday night, her mind too overwhelmed by that clean print on the paper cup.

As she waited for her milk to warm up, she took the paper cup, washing it under the water. The smell of old coffee wasn't too pleasant. She panicked for a second when she thought the numbers were erased, but, though faded, she could still see his phone number.

The microwave beeped and she set off to eat. She took her time, admiring the view through the window of her kitchen. At least, she took her time until she was running late. Then she was shoving everything in her purse, throwing her hair into a ponytail, and haphazardly putting clothes on.

Before she left, she took one last look at the paper cup on the table and shrugged before shoving it in her purse. She'd call him during her lunch break at work.

  
  
xx-xx

  
  
"Hey, please leave a message at the beep," Cam's voice sounded distorted through the phone.

This was already the third time she'd called him. Once during her ten o'clock break, once in her lunch break, and here, in her office. It was only two hours since she'd last called him but she'd thought he'd be free by now. She still had to work until seven and was hoping that he would have provided her with a distraction.

Disappointed, she set down her phone on the table. It was no use to check if it was the right number, she'd done that six times already.

She wondered if she seemed too desperate. After all, no one normally called someone so often. Embarrassed by her previous actions, she decided not to call him anymore. His loss.

She had barely thought that when her phone started ringing. Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw the name on the screen.

"Hi, speaking with Haley."

 _"Haley,_ hi! It's Cam from the BP station. I'm sorry I couldn't reply earlier, I have moments where I cut off my phone when I work so I don't get distracted."

"No worries," she felt relief settle in her chest. he wasn't ignoring her. He didn't think she was desperate (or he hadn't seen all the phone calls yet). "So, how are you? Haven't spilt any more coffees, have you?"

"I'm great. And actually," he started, chuckling. "This morning I did spill some coffee. On my boss, nonetheless. We could say he wasn't thrilled about the state of his new shirt."

They both laughed and Haley found the sound recomforting.

"How are _you_?"

"I'm good," she said nonchalantly. _Act normal, act normal,_ was repeated like a mantra through her head. "How are you?"

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the phone.

"Oh sorry," she mumbled embarrassed. "I already asked that."

"It's fine, don't worry," his nervous chuckle sent her nerves into a frenzy. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

Shoot.

"Would you like to meet this Saturday? I really liked talking to you in the BP station, but I'm hoping we can maybe find a nice place and sit down and... talk?" It ended in more of a question than a statement.

"Yeah, sure," killer bees appeared in her stomach and she could hear her heart from how loud it was thumping in her chest. "This Saturday."

"Yep," he replied. She was glad to notice she wasn't the only one flustered by this situation. "I'll text you the address. I know a café that's not too far from your city."

"Okay."

"Okay," he replied softly.

"See you then."

She heard the phone click and immediately after let herself squeal loudly.

She had a feeling this was going to be good.

  
  
xx-xx

  
  
It wasn't good. It was great.

They met at four in front of a small café. It was really cute, with a vintage look and beige walls. They'd sat down in a corner and ordered their coffees, which Cam had offered to pay. She let him this time, even though he didn't owe it to her, and told herself she'd force him to let her pay the following time. They talked for a while, and honestly? She loved every second of it. He was quirky, in a good way. He had a sense of humour she could appreciate and read lots of books like she did. They talked about what things they had in common and stumbled a few times on topics they clashed on, but both defended their opinion and had researched their point enough to have a few facts stuck in their heads.

This made for an interesting conversation, and Haley knew she was falling fast for the tilted smile permanently plastered on Cam's face.

And it only got better.

They met as much as they could, willingly doing the trip to each others house if only to see the other for an hour. They often went to places, once to a park, once to the beach, once to a tree hut Cam had stumbled across when he was small in the middle of a forest that was abandoned. Each date felt more like an adventure, and every time Haley appreciated seeing him in person and missed him more and more when he was gone.

They eventually decided to move in with each other. It seemed like the right thing to do. Even then, their passion didn't fade. They would both go to work, too tired to talk in the mornings and spend the evening with each other, relearning everything about the other.

Haley often told Cam he was a miracle. How she was glad for that spilt coffee. But she never told him she still carried the paper cup with the almost completely faded out writing. She didn't tell him that she'd forgotten to take it out and now it was the only thing that anchored her. It was her lucky charm, her favourite object, a souvenir of their horrible first meeting and the beginning of their adventure.

But every sturdy boat goes through a storm, and she hadn't even seen the hurricane brewing.

It was a Friday evening. She was tired from her work and had crashed on the sofa as soon as she stumbled into their home.

"Hey, Sweetheart," she immediately melted at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Hey," she mumbled back softly. She changed her position so she could see him enter the room, smiling.

"I got you a new baseball cap from your favourite team," she announced. She watched as his eyes lit up with excitement and his grin widened until it touched his ears.

"You did?" he sounded shy, nervous to be hopeful.

"Yeah, I did."

"Okay, where is it?" He rushed to her, spotting her discarded purse on the floor. He grabbed it before she could protest and searched through it.

"It's not there-" she cut herself off when he looked up with a disgusted expression, holding something he had picked up from inside her purse.

Their paper cup.

"You still have this." Crap. Crapcrapcrap. He wasn't meant to see it. She knew he wouldn't like it. Why had she ever hoped he'd find it cute. Of course, it was disgusting.  
"Yeah," she laughed nervously. "I just forgot it was there, silly me. You know how I am."

He wasn't impressed.

"You can't just keep that in your bag-" his voice was rising and Haley knew she had to do something before it got out of hand.

"I know it's unhygienic, but I washed it and-"

"It's not even that." He was definitely angry. She braced herself for impact. "It's creepy!"

No amount of preparation could have saved her. She felt numb, the hurt hadn't yet kicked in. She enjoyed the blank feeling she got before the tears appeared.

"I don't want my girlfriend to carry things like that!" He fumbled for the right word, before finding his voice again. He didn't care about hurting her or not anymore. "It's- its weird!"

She felt like she was drowning in the flood of emotions. She felt like her heart couldn't pump blood around her body from how crushed it was.

  
_Of course it's weird_ , the voice in her head sounded familiar to someone she'd heard before. _You're a freak!_

It wasn't the first time someone had told her she was weird. She just hadn't thought it would come from him.

An unwanted memory resurfaced suddenly. She was in the school playground once again, only twelve years old. New school, new faces. But she told herself it would be fine. Even when the taunting face of an older kid shouted insults at her, even when she was pushed to the ground and her hands got red welts, even when the teachers did nothing. She promised herself it wasn't happening again. That the words spewed out of their mouths, infiltrating her blood like poison, didn't hurt as much as they did. That the word weird now had a new definition, and that definition was her.

 _It's fine_ , she lied to herself. She would survive. Living was overrated anyways.

As if a switch had been flicked on, his face turned into one of panic.

"Oh no, I didn't mean that. I swear I didn't. Haley, please. I'm sorry-" He cut himself off when she raised her hand.

"I'll throw it away, just please," she wiped her face with her sweater. "Don't use that word."

She didn't look him in the eyes. She knew she'd see pity there.

To be honest, she'd known it was there in her purse, she just hadn't taken it out since the day she got a pay rise after she'd found it. Since the day she'd wished for a blue sky on her birthday, and had gone outside and had not seen one raindrop. It was not just their cup now. It was her lucky cup. And yeah, maybe it was weird, but she couldn't see herself without the paper cup that had given her everything, a boyfriend, a blue sky, and happy days since she'd picked it up.

"You can keep it if it makes you happy," he told her desperately. Anything to fix his mistake. "I don't mind much just- _please stop crying_."

She sniffled softly, wiping her eyes again. It didn't do much, her sleeve was already soaked, but as people said, it was the thought that counted.

"Okay," she said softly.

She could see his shoulders relax instantly in her peripheral vision.

"Let's not talk about this." She wanted to forget. It was their first fight. She needed time to process that. "This is supposed to be a happy day. Your cap is in the white bag in the hallway."

His face turned guilty.

"I don't deserve it."

"It's fine, go get it."

"Thanks, baby." He kissed her cheek, a silent apology, a white flag.

And whilst he fetched the bag, she grabbed her paper cup he'd dropped on the carpet. It was slightly crumpled from his tight grip. She smoothed it out, a gentle smile appearing on her face, putting it back in her purse right before he came back.

If he noticed it was gone, he didn't say anything.

  
  
xx-xx

  
They still fought, but mostly it was silly. What TV show to watch, who was doing the dishes. They were never too serious, and he certainly never uttered the word weird again.  
Cam eventually proposed. He'd set out a table with candles and set the mood, preparing dinner for them too, and Haley had been very grateful for the special occasion. He'd gotten down on one knee when she wasn't looking, and she'd turned around to see the man of her life holding a precious box out to her, the beautiful ring hers for the taking. Honestly, she hadn't heard half of the speech, too overcome by shock and happiness to really focus. But she did remember the question, the one that changed their lives. A word later, they were planning their marriage and falling in love all over again.

One night, they talked about the baby boy they would one day have. They talked about how sweet and kind he would be, as much a gentleman as his father. They'd sworn to themselves he'd never meet his future spouse by spilling coffee on them, seeing him grow up with the perfect childhood in their dreams. And they waited for the day they could call each other their significant other, the day they would say yes and become husband and wife.

They thanked the paper cup, with the faded numbers and dull white exterior.

One could say it was silly, really, how she still had that paper cup, even on that fateful day. How she clutched it in her hands when she saw the headlights facing her. How fear had overtaken her body, painting her face with a look of horror and desperation. How her scream had cut through the silence of the night. How the sound of tires squealing had filled her ears, how they crushed her bones. How violent the slamming of her head had been, the blood spraying all over the pavement.  
Her lucky cup couldn't save her this time.

  
  
xx-xx

  
  
She was at another BP station the night it happened, they told him. An accident, they said. The driver was going too fast.

They handed him her purse, and he got everything she'd had, but he couldn't bear to look at any of it.

He changed places, staying at his sister's house. He often found himself wandering around the house, wondering in what reality they could've been together.  
The hardest day was when he had to call the chef, the church, the hairdresser, he makeup artist, and tell them the marriage was not happening. He'd gotten three words out before he'd burst into tears. His sister had immediately taken over, moving to the other room to deliver the news. She hadn't wanted to upset him further.

There was a constant ache in his heart. He'd be hit with memories, with nostalgia, and some days he wasn't even able to get out of bed, to open his eyes because everything reminded him of _her_.

It never got easier, but he slowly got tougher. His brain eventually wrapped around the idea that there wasn't another warm body to wake up next to, that his hands would never fit in someone else's, that the smiles he wore were just for pretence.

But then suddenly it was a year and a half later, and he told himself he was ready. Told himself he had to do something with all her stuff. Convinced himself that this was what she would've wanted. He eventually would have to sell the apartment. Eventually, move on. Give it to another couple whose love could maybe last longer than four years. He didn't even feel emotions anymore. Most of them had been reduced and limited to melancholy and despair. So he took her purse. It wasn't the smartest of ideas, but he knew he had to find something quick to sort through before he lost his nerves and it just happened to be the first item of her he saw.

He slowly rummaged around the bag, landing on her favourite bubble pink lipstick. He felt his lip corners go down, his vision blur slightly. But he went on. The necklace he'd given her for their first-year anniversary was next, her rose-gold telephone after. It didn't work anymore, the screen cracked and darkly mirroring his stricken face. Turned out even a telephone couldn't survive a car riding over it. He took everything out, one by one, feeling bits of his heart leave his chest with each object. This was all she was now, a memory of a person, these objects strewn on the floor around him. He dug around the bottom of the bag, not wanting to miss anything. He'd be throwing the purse away if he could. It had tire marks all over it and one corner was crusty with blood, deformed from being crushed by such a heavy weight.

His fingers did end up grazing against something and he pulled the object out.

The world stopped.

He couldn't hear anything, a drone-like white noise drowning any other sounds out. All he could see was the cheap paper cup, its round shape and its faded out numbers, mangled and deformed. If he hadn't known she carried it, he would have not been able to know what it was. It reminded him of their first fight. How he wished he could go back to something so trivial. He couldn't bear to look at it. It was the one thing that had intertwined them, then ripped them apart so painfully.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He watched as a tear rolled down the side, washing away some of the letters completely.

He was numb.


End file.
